Alone in the Dark (16 page)

The neediness within Brady had brought him to a point of vulnerability he'd never

experienced before, even at the lowest point of his childhood. Tomorrow there would be

self-reprisals and regrets, but right now he needed this, needed to lose himself in this

feeling, in this woman. He knew in his heart that none of this was real and that there was

no salvation at the end of the path, but for now, he could pretend to believe in that.

Believe in the sheer purity this woman represented. Believe in salvation.

Her world was so different from his, had been so different from his. Because, no matter

what, there had been love for her to grow on. The way there hadn't been for him.

He couldn't remember ever feeling love. Couldn't remember ever feeling anything but a

sense of duty toward his mother and sister, because they'd had no one else. For his

father, he'd felt nothing but hatred, such enormous hatred.

He gave as good as he'd gotten.

He wanted to be cleansed. To forget, just for a moment, that he was this man who

couldn't feel. Who had no love to offer, no evidence of love in his life. He wanted to cross

the border and to quietly slip out of his world into hers.

The heat of the kiss grew, spreading all through him, absorbing him into the fire.

Cleansing him.

With a hesitation that was completely foreign to him, Brady touched her, letting his

fingers trail along her back, up her sides. Anticipating the press of flesh against flesh. The

swell of her breasts, pressed so urgently against him, filled him with both desire and a

sense of sweetness that came from nowhere and left him in awe and wonder.

Things happened inside of him, things he couldn't understand. Things beyond the physical.

Sounds filled his head. Distant noises that steadily became louder.

Whining?

Moaning?

And then he felt Patience press her palms against his arms, pushing him back. Not

urgently, but just enough to make him stop.

Reality dawned on him. What the hell was he doing? An apology hovered on his lips, but the

look in her eyes was amusement. He didn't understand.

"We have an audience," she told him. When he said nothing, just watched her, Patience

nodded her head toward the two dogs who sat side by side like a furry Greek chorus not

two feet away, watching their every move.Tacomamade a high-pitched noise that sounded

very much like whining. Something akin to a rumbling noise came from King. "I

thinkTacoma's jealous."

"Of me?" Brady felt as if his brain was encased in a fog.

He watched as a smile rose into her eyes. Desire crescendoed inside his belly. He wanted

nothing more than to stand here and bask in the light, in the warmth he felt emanating

from her.

"No," Patience corrected. "Of me. I think she likes you. A lot. She wants to be the alpha female." And then she blew out a breath as if she were trying to get her bearings. He

could identify with that, he thought. Cupping her hand to his cheek, she said, "Whatever

you're thinking, hold that thought. I'll be right back." She looked at the two dogs. "C'mon, you two. Your masters need some alone time."

Aching for her, Brady watched as she led the two dogs away to another room. He heard a

door close somewhere down the hall. She was back in less than a minute.

For the sake of future tranquillity, he tried to talk himself out of making love with her.

And had very little success.

"Okay," Patience said cheerfully as she presented herself in front of him again, "where were we?"

He wanted to frame an apology, something about being carried away by the moment and

the import of what he'd just shared with her on her doorstep. The words refused to come

and then they were halted altogether. The very air stopped in his lungs as she took his

hand and placed it on her breast.

"I believe you were here," she told him, rising just slightly on her toes. "And your mouth—

" she moved closer "—was right here."

Like a man in a dream, he felt his heart all but stop. Felt her breath on his lips. Felt

everything within him tightening like a wet leather string left out in the sun. He'd never

wanted someone so much in his life, couldn't remembereverwanting anyone the way he

wanted her.

And it scared him. Scared him because it took control out of his hands and placed it in

hers. "Patience—" he began.

"Yes," she whispered, "we've both exercised more than a little of it. Now it's time to act on the way we both feel."

He wanted nothing more than to take her. But he'd always been aware of consequences

and in this case there were huge ones. For both of them, her as well as him. "You're going

to regret this."

"Only if I stop." Feeling so much she didn't know where to begin, Patience tried very hard to contain it all and to move forward slowly. But move forward she would. Because to step

back at this point was unthinkable. Her eyes held his. "Rule Number One. Don't ever, ever,

tell me how I'm going to react to something—because you have no way of knowing."

He feathered his fingers through her hair. Golden highlights gleamed at him from the

strawberry strands. "I thought Rule Number One was no policeman."

A very sexy grin curved the corners of her mouth. "You're not wearing a uniform right

now," she pointed out. Then, surprising herself a little and him a great deal, she began to

unbutton his shirt. Slowly. Seductively. She could feel his pulse drumming beneath her

fingers. "And pretty soon, you won't be wearing anything at all."

Whatever control he thought he had over himself shattered into a thousand pieces.

Needs began to urgently pound through him, demanding satisfaction. Demanding her.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, he found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled

it down to its base. The turquoise fabric seemed to sigh right off her body. Sigh the way

he realized he had as he saw her standing in a lacy white bra, matching panties and

stockings that seemed to have no earthly way of staying up.

Excitement tightened like a fist within his belly. He felt himself hardening even more.

It took him a second to reassure himself that he hadn't swallowed his own tongue.

The rest was a haze of feelings, of desires and near fulfillments. He took off her bra and

panties, teasing them both, but left her stockings in place. She was incredibly erotic,

wearing only the soft scraps of nylon. His own clothes were shed in a flurry as the need to

feel her flesh against his grew more urgent.

He explored her, even as she explored him, and they both drove one another almost crazy

as they touched, caressed and pressed moist, openmouthed kisses along trembling skin. He

went closer and closer to the edge, only to retreat at the very last moment.

Each time he'd pull himself back from the brink, he did so because he wanted to savor

this feeling a little longer. Wanting to pleasure her a little more. It was the only way he

could thank her for the respite she was giving him, for dragging him out of the solitary

world that he had inhabited for so long.

Patience twisted and turned beneath his touch, beneath the hot trail that his mouth was

forging. Biting back moans.

Damn, but she had never thought it could be like this. Like fire and ice and shooting stars

racing along the sky. Pleasure erupted in her veins over and over again, seemingly joined

together in an endless loop that continued to corkscrew all through her. She wanted him

with such an intensity she was afraid she was going to explode.

Each time Brady touched her, each time he kissed her, her head spun a little more, her

blood heated a little higher.

She wanted to absorb him, to make love with him like this forever. It had never, ever,

occurred to her that it could be this wonderful. Her solitary college experience had been

so fraught with such disappointment, she'd come away from it feeling that sex, that

lovemaking itself, was highly overrated.

And maybe it was. If it happened with anyone but the right person.

The thought burst across her brain.

Oh no, no, Brady Coltrane wasn't the right person. He couldn't be. She'd promised herself

that it would never be a man who lived by the badge.

This had to be sorted out.

Later.

For now, Brady remained the most dynamic man she had ever met. And so very skilled at

what he did. Because he played her as if she were a fine, rare instrument, making her body

hum. Making every single inch of her vibrate. With longing. With anticipation.

She wrapped her legs around him, moving the core of her against him. She didn't know

how much longer she could last like this.

They were on the floor and then, suddenly, he was over her. She could feel him wanting

her. Her heart was pounding so hard, she could scarcely breath.

Now,her eyes implored him.Make love with me now!

And then, just as she was certain she was going to expire, she felt him enter her. Felt the

sweet, overpowering sensation as he sheathed himself within her. She raised her hips up

urgently, meeting him halfway. Beginning the movement that would ultimately bring them

down from the summit they were climbing.

His eyes were on hers, as if he were trying to memorize her every feature, her every

breath. Mesmerized, she didn't even blink.

Brady moved harder and harder, needing release and yet, at the same time, not wanting

this time to end. He wanted her with such force that it all but completely undid him.

When the climax came, seizing both of them in its grip, he tightened his arms around her,

as if he meant to pull her into him, to make her a permanent part of himself.

He tried to absorb her into his very skin, feeling things that he couldn't put into words

even if he'd wanted to try.

As the sensation slowly began to ebb away, he continued to hold her to him, vainly trying

to prolong the moment.

But eventually it flowed on the wings of night.

She had trouble regulating her breathing. Everything still raced inside her, breaking every

speed record. Finally she turned toward him and saw an odd look on his face.

So many things were going on inside, he couldn't begin to catalog them, couldn't begin to

even pick his way through them. "Doc—"

So, it was Doc again, not Patience, she thought. She tried to brace herself and knew she

wasn't going to do a very good job of it.

There was a smile on her lips, but this time it didn't reach her eyes.

"Coltrane," she warned him, "if you apologize for this, I swear I'm going to make a necklace out of your teeth."

The absurd image made him smile, even when there was nothing to smile about. Because

he'd weakened and allowed himself to react to her physically instead of backing away the

way he should have.

Unable to help himself, he brushed back a strand of her hair. It was damp with

perspiration, like the rest of her. He felt desire stir within him again and he clamped down

on it.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." He looked away because looking at Patience only made

him want her. Badly.

No, she thought, it wasn't. He was a cop and she wasn't supposed to care about a cop, not

in that way. But things didn't always go according to plan. If they had, her father would

have been a great deal more loving. And he would have still been alive. So would her

mother.

"But it did," she pointed out quietly. She touched his face, forcing him to look at her.

"Don't spoil it by overthinking it, Coltrane. Some things you just have to enjoy. And leave it at that."

As if he could just leave it at that, he silently mocked himself. Before he could say

anything to refute what she'd just said, Patience raised her head up and lightly brushed

her lips against his. And succeeded in brushing away any noble resolve on his part, as well.

Brady gathered her against him and kissed her. Hard. And the dance began all over again,

despite all their resolutions and rules to the contrary.

Patience sighed as she stared at the computer screen. She'd typed the same sentence

three times in a row now. It was as if the software was hiccuping. Shaking her head, she

pressed the backspace key and deleted the repetitious lines. Finished, she sat back and

scrubbed her hands over her face, wishing she could somehow scrub them over her brain,

as well.

The past couple of days she'd felt as if she'd been sleepwalking. Sleepwalking and holding

her breath. Waiting not for any evidence of the stalker, but some kind of sign that Brady

was still in her life.

He'd left that evening soon after they'd made love again. Left quickly with hardly any

conversation in his wake. Rather than like lovers, they'd parted like two strangers who'd

woken up in the wrong bed. Next to the wrong person.

Was she the wrong person to him?

Was he?

If she looked at the situation logically, she'd made a huge mistake. Except that tiny little

voice inside of her kept arguing that she hadn't. But that tiny voice was definitely in the

minority. Especially since Brady hadn't called since he'd walked out her door.

Face it, she told herself. It was just one of those things that happen. It's over, finished

before it really started.

But, whether she liked it or not, her one night of lovemaking was going to become a

yardstick by which she would measure every other man. Because, whatever else he might